


From Safe to Sound

by second_hand_heaven



Category: DCU
Genre: Caretaking, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: " “Hey M,” Dick says, hating how breathless his voice is, “if you’re listening, I-I, could really use your help right about now.” Another blow to his chest has him slumping forward, only the restraints at his wrists keeping him upright and not puddled on the grimy warehouse floor.Of course Midnighter’s listening, Dick scoffs to himself, as if M could ever ignore someone asking for help. Despite everything, he knows M has a soft spot inside, and maybe even a soft spot for him. "





	From Safe to Sound

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely tantalumcobalt who asked for the [prompt](http://second-hand-heaven.tumblr.com/post/175539458001/just-breathe-okay-and-are-you-hurt-for/) "just breathe, okay" and "are you hurt" for dicknighter

“Hey M,” Dick says, hating how breathless his voice is, “if you’re listening, I-I, could really use your help right about now.” Another blow to his chest has him slumping forward, only the restraints at his wrists keeping him upright and not puddled on the grimy warehouse floor.

Of course Midnighter’s listening, Dick scoffs to himself, as if M could ever ignore someone asking for help. Despite everything, he knows M has a soft spot inside, and maybe even a soft spot for him.

_“One hot bastard in tight leather, coming up.”_  Dick hears it just as there’s a flash of light to his left. He tries to keep his head up, he really does, but it’s so hard. Every inch of him feels like it’s been replaced with lead, dragging him further and further to the ground, to sleep. But knowing that M is here, that M will protect him, keeps him barely awake. He doesn’t watch the ensuing fight, too busy trying to keep his stomach contents where it should be, and not all over the floor. M makes it quick though, and from the sounds of it, surprisingly clean.

“Are you hurt?” Is the first thing Midnighter asks, his attention directly on Dick as he rushes over to the chair Dick is bound to, kneeling in front of him. Dick cracks a smile, trying not to laugh because yeah, he’s definitely hurt. What a dumb thing to say. M must be off his game, or maybe he’s worried about him. Maybe Dick should be more worried. Two broken ribs, possible fracture to a third. Three fingers broken on his left hand. A knife wound in his gut, another deep slash to his left upper arm. Probably a concussion, and those are just the injuries he can feel. He knows M is scanning him, knows his heart rate is all over the place, and that’s only partly due to his wounds. Man, he must have been hit in the head pretty hard if he can’t stop thinking about M kneeling between his spread legs like this.

“Just breathe, okay?” M says, a gloved hand stroking down the side of Dick’s face. “I’m getting you out of here.” He cuts away the restraints, but makes no comment about finding Dick all tied up. Dick finds himself disappointed at that, but turns his focus on trying to breathe through the pain.

“M?” He’s trying so hard to keep his eyes open, to say what he needs to say, but all he manages is, “thanks,” before he falls under.

* * *

Dick wakes up in a bed he doesn’t recognise and an odd absence of pain. He’s not on edge, so it must be somewhere safe, but it isn’t his apartment in Bludhaven, or his room at the Manor. The bed is firmer than Dick is used to, the blankets heavier. He scans the room, trying to bring his eyes into focus. It’s pretty nice from what he can see, neutral with off-white walls and warm-coloured floorboards. Sparsely decorated, with only a few momentos across the top of the dresser by the far wall. There’s a chair in the corner stacked high with clothes, two pairs of shoes sitting beneath. A man’s room, then, Dick thinks, trying to put together what happened to bring him here.

His eyes glance to the doorway. In a faded white tank top and low-hanging jeans, Midnighter leans against the door frame. “Morning,” he says, taking a sip of what smells like fresh coffee, and Dick tries not to salivate.

“Hey.” Dick tries to compute what happened, leading to him waking up in what he assumes is Midnighter’s bed. “Wh-”

“Bad fight,” M says, as if reading his mind. “You should see the other guys. The bats know you’re safe, by the way. Had one of them chew my ear off about keeping you here, but I figured you weren’t in the mood for a family reunion at the moment.”

“Okay,” Dick says, processing. He sits up in bed, or at least he tries to. He cries out as a sharp pain sears through his chest, his arm, his hand. Fuck, it feels like a red-hot poker skewering him, scorching his insides.  

M is across the room and at his side in an instant, pushing his shoulders until Dick is lying back down on the bed again. “Hey, easy. I just finished putting you back together, I’d hate to have to do it all over again.” The warmth of M’s touch almost makes up for the pain. Almost.

“Thanks,” Dick rasps, watching the way M’s lips quirk upward at the corners. He wants to kiss them, to lean up see what they feel like pressed against his, but M’s hands keep him firmly on the bed. Exhaustion washes over him, like a tidal wave pulling him under. “Stay.”

But M just shakes his head. “Need anything?” he asks, and yeah, Dick needs M to kiss him right this second or he’s going to burst. Or cry. Or say something incredibly stupid about his feelings. So instead, Dick bites his lip, trying to keep the all the dumb things from falling off his tongue. Not trusting himself to speak, he shakes his head. M leans closer and Dick closes his heavy eyelids, waiting, heart hammering in his chest. “Get some rest,” M says, breath ghosting across Dick’s face. On the brink of sleep, Dick feels M’s dry lips press against his brow in a soft kiss.

* * *

When Dick wakes up again later, the memories of the fight, being captured, being rescued by M, all flood back, as does the pain in his chest. He tries to roll on his side but it just makes it worse. He hisses in pain, gasping out a dignified, “fuck.”

He hears footsteps, a sharp curse from Midnighter, and the next moment the vigilante is at Dick’s side, hands firm as they roll Dick onto his back. Another time, Dick might appreciate being manhandled by M in bed, a sarcastic comment at the ready, but the pain bluntens his tongue and mind.

M helps him sit up against the headboard, and leaves him there with the command “stay.” As if Dick could go anywhere else right now. He tilts his head back, trying to even out his breathing. By the time M returns, it’s almost back to normal. M takes Dick’s right hand in his, and Dick feels his his breathing quicken again. But no, M just places some pills in Dick’s good hand, and holds a glass of water up to Dick’s lips. “C’mon.”

Anger flares in the wake of the earlier pain. “I’m not an invalid,” Dick snarks. He tries to take the cup in his own thickly bandaged hand, but M pulls it out of his reach.

“No, you’re a pain in my ass.” He brings the cup up to Dick’s mouth again, “now take the pills and drink the damn water.” So Dick takes the damn pills and drinks the damn water and definitely doesn’t poke his tongue out at M afterwards. “If you hold that down, I’ll give you some soup later.”

Soup sounds amazing, but first he has to take care of something. He shoves the covers off his bare legs and tries to move, but M puts a hand to his arm, halting his movements. “M,” Dick protests, “I gotta…” His shoulders sag; the bathroom looks so far away.

“Come on then,” Midnighter says, helping Dick to the edge of the bed. He takes Dick’s arm, placing it across M’s broad shoulders. Thick muscles ripple beneath Dick’s arm as M takes some of Dick’s weight, but Dick doesn’t budge. “Dick,” M huffs, “I’d rather not have to scrape you off the bathroom floor. Let’s go.” With a sigh, they slowly cross the bedroom floor.

They make it into the bathroom, the tiles cool beneath Dick’s bare feet. “I can do this part myself,” Dick grits out, and M finally cedes, letting go. He doesn’t go far, Dick can tell by the footsteps that stop just outside the bathroom door.

M comes back in as the toilet finishes flushing. “You good?”

Dick nods and finishes washing his hands, drying them on a hand towel for longer than necessary. The walk back to bed is going to hurt, hell, his chest is already aching. He’s exhausted from the effort it took to get to the bathroom, he’s not sure he has the energy to make it back. There’s certainly no energy left to protest when M carefully picks him up and carries him back to bed, not even enough energy for a dignified yelp.

Dick is placed on the bed ever so gently, like he’s something fragile, the sheets pulled up over him. Settled beneath the covers, the memory of M’s arms around him fresh in his mind, Dick melts into the mattress. “Thank you,” Dick says, not sure what else to say.

M smirks down at him, “I’m sure there are a few different ways you can thank me, even with those broken fingers.” M looks over Dick’s bandages, starting with his left hand.

Dick tries to give him cheeky smirk, but his face is less than cooperative. “Where’s your uniform?” M looks up from Dick’s chest, eyebrow quirked. “Your uniform,” he repeats. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a sexy nurse outfit or something?”

But M just chuckles, “maybe next time,” and heads for the door. “You’re still in one piece, please don’t change that. Call me if you need anything.”

Dick lays back back against the pillows, something like disappointment settling in his chest. Something’s changed, he realises, something’s wrong. For all M’s flirting, he turns cagey the moment Dick tries to return the sentiment, and Dick isn’t sure how he feels about that. No, he knows how he feels. He hates it. He’s pining away after this vigilante whose taunts and teasings get him all riled up, and now M just doesn’t want to play? What’s wrong with him? Is M seeing someone new? Or maybe all that flirting was just… flirting, nothing more? Dick falls back asleep alone in M’s bed with tears in his eyes.

* * *

He wakes up again much later, the apartment bathed in darkness. He manages to stand without too much pain, carrying himself to the bathroom without needing to call M along for support. He takes care of business and washes his hands. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he grimaces. No wonder M didn’t want to kiss him, he looks like shit. With his uninjured hand, he splashes water onto his face, washing away the grime and sleep and dried drool. On the vanity, he finds a toothbrush still in its packaging and a tube of toothpaste, and takes the hint. After brushing his teeth, he starts to feel a little bit more human. Confident that he won’t fall to pieces after a few steps, he leaves the bathroom and heads into the rest of the apartment.

M is sitting on the couch, a mug of what Dick assumes to be coffee sitting on the table in front of him. He turns at the sound of Dick’s footsteps, startled to find him out of bed. “Hungry?”

Dick shakes his head, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He feels like a fool, standing here in his underwear, pining for a guy who just wants to help him, nothing more. The ache in his chest has him clenching his teeth, but it’s not all to do with the broken ribs.

M frowns at him. “C’mere, ” he says, gesturing with a hand for Dick to come and sit. Dick stumbles to the couch and ends up half sitting, half lying across the cushions beside M, the leather squeaking at the effort. They’re close enough to be touching, but M stubbornly keeps his distance. He could close the space between them, something sinister at the back of his mind suggests, he could make the first move. But the reject that will follow, that he’s almost certain will follow, he can’t bear to stomach it now.

“So,” M says, breaking their silence, “any particular reason for taking on that Yakuza faction all by yourself, or did you just feel like going on a suicide mission?”

“I don’t want to do this,” Dick says, turning away. He doesn’t have the energy for a fight, not now.

M laughs harshly, anger simmering below the surface. “And I didn’t want to get another call like that from you again, but here we are.”

Oh, so that’s it. M is sick of him. Well, it was fun while it lasted, pretending that M meant each teasing remark. This one is going to hurt, he thinks. Hell, it already does. “Then you won’t get any more. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“When are you going to get it through your head that people care about you?” M sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t, I can’t keep saving you.”

“M-” Dick tries, before he’s cut off.

“No, listen to me, alright? I can’t keep saving you, but, you know, I will. I always will. But one day that isn’t going to be enough. One day I’m going to be too late, and-” he cuts himself off with another harsh laugh “-and you’ll be fucking dead. One day I won’t be able to save you, and it’s going to kill me.”

Oh. Dick reaches across the space between them, his hand finding M’s bicep. His fingers trace down M’s arm, and the shiver he feels beneath his fingertips drives him forward. “I can’t promise I won’t die, not with the lives we lead.” He covers M’s hand with his. “But I can try.”

“C’mere,” M says, tugging Dick closer until he’s pressed up against M’s side. M’s arm wraps around Dick’s shoulders, Dick’s head pillowed on M’s chest. The rise and fall of M’s steady breathing lulls Dick closer and closer to sleep.

“M?” Dick asks with a yawn.

“Yeah buddy?” The words rumble through M’s chest.

The insistent heartbeat beneath his cheek falls in time with his own, or maybe it’s the other way around. “Thank you for saving me,” Dick says, before falling asleep.

 

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and Kudos always welcome.
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on my [tumblr](http://second-hand-heaven.tumblr.com/)


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